


John's Lament

by HalflightPrince



Category: Christian Bible
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalflightPrince/pseuds/HalflightPrince
Summary: A small poem from the Apostle John near the end of his life, addressed towards Jesus.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	John's Lament

Yeshua,  
I wish I could tell you of your mother's fate;  
though it's certain you know, to chatter once more  
would be Heaven on Earth. Time’s running low now  
until I see you again, freed from this life;  
yet I ache in wait to taste your bright presence.  
Will I die as Thomas, your words on my tongue  
as four spears pierce my side, blood trailing below?  
Or will it be Jude, arrows crushing my lungs,  
the last of my breath singing hymns to the wind?  
Even if I am beheaded, my throat slashed  
by axes or swords, I’ll howl your prayers, as did  
James or Saint Philip, on their cracked, withered lips.  
It’s lonely, Yeshua. Each night I look on  
the sunset and sunrise, awaiting your laugh  
from the dimly lit stars, like heaven’s lanterns  
lighting the path to your pure constellation;  
or the smile of Matthew, whose martyrdom  
haunts me when I close my eyes. Memories  
of the faces and songs in my hollow chest  
are the only comfort as I approach death,  
as the visions you grant of the end grow strong.  
I will soon finish the gospel you asked for,  
though I obsess more over your words prior.  
Do I outlive still Nathaniel and Simon  
because I’m your Beloved? You must know  
the torture that taunts me behind closed doors,  
the anguish of life without you beside me.  
Perhaps when I finish my task, the weight of  
the blood of my friends, and the stare of Judas  
will fall off my shoulders, as hair when it’s cut.  
Until then, Yeshua, I scream out your name  
and write your stories with love, grief, and anger.


End file.
